[See, most people at these parties might be taking it easy. Parties are times to relax. Times to chill and eat and drink. And well, to her credit, Beau has accomplished one of those things- she is absolutely, incredibly getting that drink. It takes less than five minutes from her arrival to figure out the alcohol is free and under an hour before she is fucked up and on that shoreline, some sort of wooden staff with a blue ribbon on top clearly brandished. She's also yelling at whoever comes near.]
Okay, who's next?? Come on, there's sparring, right, who wants to try it? I'll even arm wrestle, gimme something, this is supposed to be a party!
[She won't hit... super hard. Not hard enough to kill probably. But she looks a little too enthusiastic about this for the unsteadiness of her feet.]
ii. growing pains (cw: body horror)
[Out of all the dreams she's had, this one has to be the worst- and most realistic. She's sitting cross-legged, an open wound on her arm where a half-torn apart flower is still hanging from her bicep, the green tendrils spread over and under her skin on her veins. It's making it hard to reach the one on the back of her shoulderblade that she seems to be struggling to get to under her coat. There's more, too- buds she can only feel on her legs, those vine-green tendrils snaking up over her left hip, and she mostly just looks pissed.
Beau holds her messed left arm with her right, pushing on the elbow to reach further, but her fingertips only graze the top of the flower's stamen. After some grunts as she tries, she relents, dropping her hands with a groan and meeting the eyes of whoever's nearby.]
Hey! You! Lend a girl a hand, will ya? You can keep the flower if you can get it.
[She doesn't seem as bothered as she should be, but she's pretty good at holding it together.]
beauregard | critical role s2 | i'll match your format!
[See, most people at these parties might be taking it easy. Parties are times to relax. Times to chill and eat and drink. And well, to her credit, Beau has accomplished one of those things- she is absolutely, incredibly getting that drink. It takes less than five minutes from her arrival to figure out the alcohol is free and under an hour before she is fucked up and on that shoreline, some sort of wooden staff with a blue ribbon on top clearly brandished. She's also yelling at whoever comes near.]
Okay, who's next?? Come on, there's sparring, right, who wants to try it? I'll even arm wrestle, gimme something, this is supposed to be a party!
[She won't hit... super hard. Not hard enough to kill probably. But she looks a little too enthusiastic about this for the unsteadiness of her feet.]
ii. growing pains (cw: body horror)
[Out of all the dreams she's had, this one has to be the worst- and most realistic. She's sitting cross-legged, an open wound on her arm where a half-torn apart flower is still hanging from her bicep, the green tendrils spread over and under her skin on her veins. It's making it hard to reach the one on the back of her shoulderblade that she seems to be struggling to get to under her coat. There's more, too- buds she can only feel on her legs, those vine-green tendrils snaking up over her left hip, and she mostly just looks pissed.
Beau holds her messed left arm with her right, pushing on the elbow to reach further, but her fingertips only graze the top of the flower's stamen. After some grunts as she tries, she relents, dropping her hands with a groan and meeting the eyes of whoever's nearby.]
Hey! You! Lend a girl a hand, will ya? You can keep the flower if you can get it.
[She doesn't seem as bothered as she should be, but she's pretty good at holding it together.]